Taylor Doesn't Always get the Short Stick
by Bochord of Leaspell
Summary: Annette Rose met Colin Wallis before she met Danny, and Taylor's dad is NOT Danny. Taylor has Magneto's powers. (Title open for Suggestions)(Cross-posted on ao3 under EquinePianist)
1. Taylor meets her father

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wildbow and whoever came up with Magneto along with their subcontractors.

(If anything seems like a copy of another's work, please let me know.)

 _[TDASS: Taylor Doesn't Always get the Short Stick]_

Shaker 13 (Mover 1, Brute 3 (field), Tinker 2, Stranger 2, Striker 1 and Master 2). This is how I rate Magneto at full power, but I don't quite think Taylor is there yet ;)

 _[TDASS: Taylor Doesn't Always get the Short Stick]_

 **Chapter Summary:** This is an alternative start to TDASS that I've been thinking off, where 8-year-old Taylor decides to meet her father for herself to try and see what her Mom saw in him. Mom doesn't really want to say that he was a one-night stand, so she lets her meet him.

* * *

 _ **PLEASE READ THE NOTES AT THE BOTTOM!**_

* * *

I know that I'm not biologically related to Dad, and I normally didn't care about it. I was curious, however, about him. My father, that is. How much did I look like him? Do I act like him? Do we like the same things. _Would he like me?_ So when Mom finally sat me down to talk, and told me how she met my Father and then how she fell in with Dad, I finally asked the question that had been haunting my thoughts.

"Would he like me?"

Mom gave me this sad smile, and her hand shook as she ran it over my hair. "I think so dear, I really do."

She pulled me into a hug, and whispered into my ear softly, almost like she didn't want me to answer. "Do you... do you want to meet him?"

I shivered a little, goosebumps forming on my arms. I hugged myself, and looked up into Mom's eyes. "Yes." I whispered back.

* * *

Mom had me meet Father at the park. I wasn't really sure why we couldn't meet him at his place, unless he was homeless, but that would be weird. Mom stood, and I looked up from my hands. There was a man walking toward us with purpose, wearing a blue shirt and some kind of black pants that weren't jeans or slacks. They kinda looked like running pants, and he _was_ wearing tennis shoes. Maybe he was just going on a walk or run or something.

He stopped to talk to Mom.

A slow realization started to dawn on me. _Was he... my father?_

I was looking up at him curiously when he seemed to take a deep breath, and kneeled down in front of me.

"Hello, Taylor. I'm Colin Wallis." He gave me a pretty smile, but I frowned, and tilted me head. He blinked.

"Why are you smiling fakely?"

"Taylor!" My mom looked embarassed. I wasn't sure why, I was asking Mr. Wallis a question that I wanted to know the answer to after all.

"It's fine Annette." He was giving me a considering look, his focused gaze made me a bit nervous, but it looked right on him. He didn't really look like a smiler.

He looked back to me. "How did you know that was a practiced smile."

I looked at him seriously. "You don't look like a smiler."

His mouth tilted to one side, and his shoulder's shook a little, then stopped. "You are quite like me, aren't you?"

"I am?"

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

"But why is that a bad thing? Aren't I supposed to be like my parents?" I was confused again.

"I am a very blunt person, and that has often gotten me in trouble. Not a lot of people like to be told things they don't like to their faces."

I crossed my arms and pouted. "But why should I talk in circles when they're just going to here it eventually?"

"I... think that's something your Mom and Dad will have to teach you. I'm still not quite sure myself, but I still have to play by their rules when I need something from them. I think that people prefer their words to be a game instead of a way of instant communication."

"I didn't think that adults still played games."

"Oh, they do. Their games just normally don't have any absolute rules."

I nodded, not feeling like talking anymore, and I reached for his hands. He gave them to me fairly easily.

He had really strong hands, with lots of caluses. His nails were a little dirty, but that was normal. Letting go of his hands, I reached for his face. This time he hesitated, but leaned forward slowly. I ran my hands through his hair, the strands cut fairly short. My hair fell over my shoulder, and I compared mine to his. My hair was a little lighter than his, closer to Mom's in color.

I slid off the bench, and I hugged him, burying my face in his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Father."

I stepped back, and walked over to Mom, grabbing her hand. We walked away, and I glanced back. Father was only just now standing from his crouch, and he turned to watch us leave for a moment. He squared his shoulders and turned, jogging off.

* * *

I was on a jog of my own right now, but I was no longer eight. I was eleven, and I had been going on jogs ever since I met my father. Mom used to jog with me until her class schedule changed, but said I could continue to run as long as I carried pepper spray and a phone, which Father had gotten for me. It didn't really look like a lot of the phones I had seen, so I figured that he had gotten a TinkerTech one. I hadn't tested how sturdy it was aside from the ocassional accidental drop, but it still looked and acted like it was still in mint-condition even though it was a couple of months old.

I hopped over the trick step and opened the door. "I'm home!"

Something clattered, and Dad ran over and hugged me. Something was soaking my shoulder, and Dad was shaking. "Dad?"

"There was an accident."

"Dad, what's going on." I was very carefully not panicing.

"Annette's in the hospital." _Oh..._

* * *

It was raining, and I was sitting on a park bench. Mom hadn't made it, had only lived long enough to hug me one last time. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the rain wash away my tears. Not long after, the rain stopped reaching my face, and Armsmaster was holding an umbrella over me.

"Hello."

He sat on the bench next to me.

"I am sorry."

I turned and looked at him, surprised, and searched his visible features for anything I recognized. He gave me a smile.

" _You don't look like a smiler."_

No, I suppose he wasn't much of a smiler. I gave him a smile of my own, one that trembled on the corners, and took the umbrella.

* * *

I coasted through the rest of middle school, and considered Arcadia before deciding on Winslow to stay with Emma, as her grades were just under the qualifification for admittance, and I wanted to stay with my only friend.

Halfway through the summer, she stopped talking to me. A month later, there was a new Ward, a former vigilante named Shadow Stalker.

* * *

I walked into school that day, more nervous than I can recall feeling, beating that of even meeting my father for the first time. At least then, mom was with me. I refused to get my dad or my father involved, _especially_ my father, that would be overkill. The Trio didn't greet me at the gate nor at the school entrance, but that only made my stomache start to twist in fear.

The hallway with my locker was packed with people, more than I can recall ever being in there even between periods or after the final bell rings. I could start to smell something, and it certainly wasn't pleasant. Taking a deep breath, I moved to open my locker, and gagged immediately. Before I could back away, I was shoved forward, and forcefully crammed into the locker.

"Let me out!" I started to scream, pounding on the door.

"Not a chance in hell, you pathetic little bitch." Annnd that would be Sophia.

"Emma! Please! Let me out!" I called out desperately.

"No way! This was my idea, you know. There's no way I would even think about helping someone as weak as you anyway."

"Madison, please, you know this isn't right."

"Whatever, you whore. At least you know what you smell like now."

The hallway erupted in laughter, and the first bell rung.

* * *

I was in there for hours, people hitting my locker as they walked by between classes. The final bell had rung over an hour ago, and I was waiting for the janitor to happen by. He did, and he was singing along to a song I couldn't hear. _He had fucking earphone on._

The little bit of light I could see through the slots in the locker eventually disappeared, and I gave up.

 _Huge creatures filled my perception._

 _It was hard to say how I knew they were two different creatures, when each of them existed in multiple parallel spaces all at once. Countless mirror moved in sync with one another, each occupying the same space, just as solid as the others, differing in how they moved and the worlds they interacted with. Each of them folded, unfolded, expanded and shifted without taking more or less space. I couldn't wrap my head around it, even as I felt there was something like a pattern there._

 _Some distant part of me realized I'd seen something similar to that folding and unfolding once, in a much simpler form. A tesseract, a fourth dimensional analogue to the cube. The difference was that while the cube had six flat faces, each 'side' of the tesseract had six cubes, each connected to the others another at each corner. To perceptions attuned to three dimensions, it seemed to constantly shift, each side folding or reshaping so that they could all simultaneously be perfect cubes, and each 'side' was simultaneously the center cube from which all the others extended outward._

 _The primary difference between these things and the tesseract was that these beings I was looking at were alive, and they weren't simple models I was viewing on a computer screen. They were living entities, lifeforms. There wasn't anything I could relate to any biology I knew or understood, nothing even remotely recognizable, but they were undoubtedly alive. They were enigmas of organs that were also limbs and also the exteriors of the creatures, each simultaneously some aspect of the entity as it flowed through empty space. It didn't help that the things were the size of small planets, and the scope of my perceptions was so small. It helped even less that parts of them seemed to move in and out of the other dimensions or realities where the mirror images were._

 _The pair moved in sync, spiraling around one another in what I realized was a double helix. Each revolution brought them further and further apart. Innumerable motes drifted from their bodies as they moved, leaving thick trails of shed tissues or energies painting the void of empty space in the wake of their spiraling dance, as though they were made of a vast quantity of sand and they were flying against a gale force headwind._

 _When they were too far away to see one another, they communicated, and each message was enormous and violent in scope, expressed with the energy of a star going supernova. One 'word', one idea, for each message._

 _ **Destination. Agreement. Trajectory. Agreement.**_

 _They would meet again at the same place. At a set time, they would cease to expand their revolution and contract once again, until they drew together to arrive at their meeting place._

(Infestation 11.6)

A seam ripped open in the center of the locker, and I started fighting again. _I had a way out, I could finally go home._

I cut myself open getting out, my hands, arms, face and legs bloodied from more than the locker. I slumped down in the hallway, blood dripping from me and my shoes squelching as I collapsed. I fumbled for my phone, hoping that it had survived. The first number I called wasn't Dad, but Father.

It rung, and he picked up after a few rings.

"Taylor? Where are you?"

"I want to go home." The phone slipped from my fingers

"Taylor? Taylor!" He sounded concerned, and I struggled to pick my phone back up.

"I'm so cold..."

"Hold on Taylor, I'll be right there, don't you dare hang up. Keep talking to me. Why are you at Winslow?"

"I was in my locker." I was smiling. Why was I smiling?

"Taylor, Taylor why were you in your locker?"

"The Trio did it."

"Who are the Trio, Taylor?"

"Emma, Sophia and Madison." I was starting to slur.

"What are their full names, Taylor, I need last names."

"Emma Barnes, Madison Clements and Sophia Hess." I could hear something. It was loud, and getting louder. Something screeched, and Armsmaster was in the hallway on his bike.

"Damn it! Miss Militia, what are the effects of using containment foam on open wounds?" Armsmaster growled.

"Nothing, it's only dangerous when the foam is removed."

"Have Panacea ready."

He started to spray foam on my wounds, and once he covered the worst of them he looked over at the locker. He looked inside, and took a couple of samples.

"Armsmaster?" I slurred at him, my surroundings were going fuzzy.

"Taylor? The medics are on their way, stay with me."

"I'm really tired."

"Taylor, Taylor don't you close your eyes. Remember Annette, remember your mom? Don't you do that to me. Eyes on ME, Taylor."

"I never... said thanks, about that phone."

"I'm just glad you have it."

There was a loud whooshing sound somewhere, and two EM's came in carrying a stretcher.

I blacked out when they moved me.

* * *

 **Basically, I'm just going to put this here as a guide and a refresher of Magneto's powers**

Magneto is a mutant with the power to manipulate magnetic fields to achieve a wide range of effects.

The primary application of his power is control over magnetism and the manipulation of ferrous and nonferrous metal.

Maximum amount of mass he can manipulate at one time is unknown, he has moved large asteroids several times and effortlessly levitated a 30,000 ton nuclear submarine.

His powers extend into the atomic level (insofar as the electromagnetic force is responsible for chemical bonding), allowing him to manipulate chemical structures and rearrange matter, although this is often a strenuous task.

He can manipulate a large number of individual objects simultaneously and has assembled complex machinery with his powers. He can also affect non-metallic and non-magnetic objects to a lesser extent and frequently levitates himself and others.

He can also generate electromagnetic pulses of great strength and generate and manipulate electromagnetic energy down to photons. He can turn invisible by warping visible light around his body.

Another way in which Magneto frequently uses his power is the projection of force-fields which selectively block out matter and energy. These fields are strong enough to withstand the simultaneous detonation of multiple thermonuclear weapons, hence Magneto is invulnerable to most harm when surrounded by his shield and can survive in deep space thanks to it.

His shields have at times withstood the likes of the X-Men, Thor, Jean Grey as Phoenix, and briefly during Secret Wars an attack from Galactus.

He can also channel his powers through his own body to increase his strength and durability far beyond human limits and has a baseline reaction time 15 times faster than those of regular humans.

On occasion he has altered the behavior of gravitational fields around him, which has been suggested as evidence of the existence of a unified field which he can manipulate. He has demonstrated the capacity to produce a wormhole and to safely teleport himself and others via the wormhole.

Magneto has been frequently depicted as able to resist all but the strongest or most unexpected of telepathic attacks. A number of explanations have been proposed for his unusually strong resistance to telepathy, among them: (a) technology wired into his helmet (the explanation given in several comic plotlines), (b) some physical aspect of his electromagnetic powers that can interfere with telepathy (he once used the Earth's magnetic field to dampen the powers of all telepaths within his reach), (c) latent telepathic powers of his own or (d) sheer force of will. The theme of latent telepathic powers has been explored in a number of stories, among them the Secret Wars limited series.

In some of his earliest appearances, Magneto was depicted as capable of engaging in astral projection. He has used Cerebro to locate mutants at great distances while leading the New Mutants. He has also, on rare occasions, been shown reading other's dreams, issuing telepathic commands, and probing the minds of others.

He has demonstrated the ability to shield his mind, while in intense meditation, so completely that even Emma Frost was not able to read his thoughts, despite being directly in front of him and actively attempting to do so.

He possesses extraordinary skill in "reading" the microexpressions on others' faces and sensing what they are thinking and feeling, whether they are lying, fearful, etc. a skill which he refers to as "taking your enemy's measure".

He also is a master strategist and tactician with extensive combat experience, and has often been successful in single-handed combat against entire groups of superhuman adversaries. He also has some military training in hand-to-hand combat and has been shown to be effective with his fists, but he prefers to use his powers when in combat.

* * *

This will be translated later on into the fic, but I have... (ideas) :3


	2. OMAKE: Taylor meets Father after Locker

Disclaimer: All right belong to Wildbow and whoever came up with Magneto along with their subcontractors.

(If anything seems like a copy of another's work, please let me know.)

* * *

I knew that Danny wasn't my dad. Sure, we both had dark brown hair, but that was where the similarities ended. I didn't have his large eyes or gawky figure, nor was I completely stick-thin like Danny and Mom. I don't really think about it, as Danny was my dad and that was that. Nevertheless, Mom and Dad sat me down when I was 13 and had just finished 7th grade. As it turns out, a couple of months before Mom met Dad, she had a drunken one-night stand with one of her fellow students at the college. While my biological father didn't want to be involved with Mom in a romantic fashion, he did ask that he be "allowed to keep tabs on her", and Mom agreed so long as it was limited to emergencies such as hospital visits. He agreed, and went outside of what Mom had expected and gave her child support as well as helped to set up her college fund more me as well as giving it a monthly donation.

I thought that that was nice of him, and a bit unexpected considering that most one-night stands don't have that decent of an outcome. Maybe when I go to college I might write him a Thank-you letter, but I really wasn't all that concerned with him, PRT superhero or not. Sure, its not everyday that one finds out that your dad is Armsmaster, one of the premier Tinkers of the world, but it's not like he stuck around and got involved besides giving Mom and Dad a little bit of help monetarily.

* * *

I opened my eyes to a white ceiling instead of in a cramped locker like I had expected. I took a deep breath, the sharp clinical smell of the hospital room a welcome relief to that of what my last memory consisted off. A small movement caught my eye, and I turned my head to the window where a dark-haired man stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

I tried to say, "Hello?" But ended up coughing, dried saliva sticking to the back of my throat, my tongue stuck to the top of my mouth and a spasm of pain locking my body in place. He turned around abruptly, and strode over to the bed to hand me the glass of water off the nightstand. I sipped the water carefully, not wanting the pain that lanced up my spine and seized my lungs to come back.

I chose my words carefully as I mulled over the empty cup. "Would you be Colin Wallis?"

He didn't flinch or hesitate. "Yes."

I smiled. It wasn't a very nice one. "I almost expected to never meet you."

"You nearly didn't."

"I suppose not."

He refilled my cup and sat in the chair by the window. The low hum of the machines and the steady beeping of the heart monitor was almost relaxing after The Locker. I finally looked away from the cup and took stock of what I looked like. My hands were carefully bandaged, and I couldn't feel my nails. I suppose that I might have clawed some of them off. My wrists were in braces, and I remember breaking them trying to get out. I carefully measured a couple of breaths before looking any further, and was glad I did. One of my knees was carefully braced, and both legs were mummified. Setting the cup aside, I carefully prodded around my rib cage, and was glad to only feel bruises. My father watched my examine myself, and a small bit of remorse was in his eyes.

"How long have you been bullied?"

I eyed him a bit in surprise, but didn't answer.

"You took stock of your injuries in a way that suggested practice, and you haven't been to the hospital often enough for it to be clumsiness."

I nodded. "Since the beginning of starting high school, so approximately a year and a half."

"Did you try to report it?"

"Repeatedly. I also tried to transfer to Arcadia, but the secretary shredded it in front of my eyes once."

My father closed his eyes in thought, and nodded to himself.

"Before I say much more, I do believe you need to speak to your dad."

He gave me a nod and left the room, presumably to get my dad.

I leaned back into the pillows, a bit surprised at how calm I was. A wave of exhaustion hit me, and as much as I didn't want to sleep, there was no fighting it.

* * *

A coin sat on a table, and a countdown started. A gunshot and a dead woman. A room being trashed. Pain.

A knife flying through the air. A gun floating. Dead bodies.

A submarine dragging me behind it. A satellite turning towards me. Lifting the submarine out of the water. A coin going through a man's head. Missile stopping and being turned towards their owners.

Flying a plane. Flying under my own power. Controlling robots. Lifting a baseball stadium with ease. Flying away.

Stopping a factory from collapsing. Using a necklace to kill. Pulling metals from the ground. Creating a web of metals that act like a membrane. Flying. Using iron in the blood to kill. Lifting a bridge and moving it. Death and fire.  
"I am Magneto."

* * *

"When I woke up again I could hear the birds outside and there was sunlight falling across my legs. A nurse was bustling around my room, my heart monitor beeped a little faster as I woke up, and she offered me a glass of water. I sipped at it.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Sore. And bored."

"We are starting to take you off the sedatives and lessen the pain killers, so I'm afraid that soreness is to be expected. Would you like me to help you find a channel on the TV for you to watch?"

I wryly looked at my bandaged hands and braced wrists.

"That may be for the best. Do you have any music channels?"

"Just classical, sorry."

"Its fine, I don't mind it. Please put it on that station, if you would."

"Of course."

I was listening to Pachelbel's Canon in D Major when Armsmaster and Panacea walked in.

"Do I have permission to heal you?"

"Yes, please and thank you."

Panacea was all business, which is to be expected of her, considering how busy she is. She unwrapped my hands and carefully took off my wrist braces. Within seconds they were in perfect condition. She sat back and looked to Armsmaster.

"I'm going to need some proteins and fats before I can continue to heal her."

Panacea unwrapped my legs while she waited for her supplies. I observed her for a second, then handed her a glass of water that I hadn't touched yet from my bedside table.

"Here."

"Panacea looked up in surprise before accepting it gratefully. She had just handed the empty cup back to me when my father came back with her supplies. Panacea went to work on my legs when I looked back up to my father.

"You didn't have to bring Panacea in. I'm sure others are in more need than me."

"You would be surprised. Besides, would you rather let the bullies win?"

Panacea observed us with shock on her features as we stared each other down. I'm not overly startled about it, as she probably hasn't heard Armsmaster ever try to be parental like this. With mutual agreement we both looked at Panacea.

She blinked. "You had some infections in your hands and legs where lacerations and bugs bites had exposed your blood. I gave you some of your muscles back and a little bit of fat to bring you to a healthy weight."

Armsmaster nodded. "Thank you Panacea."

He turned back to me. "Your dad is currently at work, but should be here in a couple of hours. I am due for patrol, but should be back when he arrives. Are you willing to give your statement with him present?"

"It is best to come clean all at once."

"I shall see you then."

"Goodbye."

Panacea was still in the room when he left. She looked hesitant.

"Its fine, you can ask as long as it stays under patient confidentiality."

"Okay, yeah that's fine. Why was he so friendly?" She looked horrified when she realized what she said."

"Don't worry about it. He's my biological dad."

"I, what... how?"/p

"Well, when a man and a woman have-"

"Its fine! Not what I meant. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded on personal matters."

"My mom and Armsmaster had a drunk one-night fling while they were in college about 5 months before she met my dad. It's not that big a deal. If you really want to apologize to me, you can hang out with me on the Boardwalk sometime. Here."

I wrote down my address on the notepad my dad had probably left on my nightstand and handed it to her.

"Hello, my name is Taylor Hebert and I would like to be friend. Benefits include: free walks, being able to complain about capes and life without having to censor it, coffee, burgers and a new friend."

Panacea cracked a smile and took the paper.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Amy Dallon and I think I might take you up on those burgers."

* * *

Panacea left the room, and I flipped my shit.

"Oh my gawd what the hell was that."

I buried my face in my hands, a blotchy tomato red coating my skin.

With a distance sense of ( _something_ ) approaching, I looked up, not knowing that parts of my body were invisible and that a couple of pens and paperclips were floating, including the chairs. Armsmaster walked in, looked at me, and closed the door. I was _very_ confused at the moment.

"Taylor, do you know what a trigger event is?"

"Just to be on the same page, let's say I don't."

"A trigger event is when someone is pushed to the edge of fight or flight, then pushed over. They are often very traumatic experiences."

"Why does this pertain to me?"

"... please observe your surroundings."

I looked and saw all the floating furniture and metal like pens and paperclips

"Do you think you can lower them?"

"I... give me a sec."

I held my hands out in front of me, and tried to recall the dreams I've been having. I felt the air, something in my mind connecting to the floating objects, and I seized that connection. Carefully lowering my hands, the furniture settled onto the ground with less noise than I was expecting. The pens did clatter though, and I winced at the sound.

Armsmaster sunk into one of the chairs, and looked out the window with a sigh.

"I had hoped that you wouldn't trigger. You must have extremely mental fortitude for you to only trigger now, as Second Generations are supposed to be easier to trigger."

I wasn't sure what to do with that, so I changed the topic.

"I thought you were supposed to be on patrol?"

He grimaced. "Miss Militia is aware that I went the hospital to see someone. She doesn't know who or why, but she insisted that I stay with you and that she would take over my patrol. Also, you need to bring your bullying complaint to the PRT."

 _Why would I need..._ _ **oh. Sophia Hess is fucking**_ _ **Shadow Stalker**_.

My hands clenched, and I growled out between clenched teeth, "Duly noted."

 _No wonder The Trio were able to get away with all that shit. The school was probably loving the fact that they had a Ward under their roof. The damn school was probably also being paid for it too. With me being Little Miss Nobody, shredding some paperwork and looking the other way was more than likely NOT a hardship. Its fine. Armsmaster won't let them look the other way anymore._

Speaking of my father, his hands were twitching. I think I read something about Tinkers, something about urges and not being allowed to work on them makes for a dangerous situation?

"... Are you able to work on your projects from your armor?"

"... Not yet."

I tossed him my pencil and paper.

"You could use this? You can always copy your work in your lab later, and I won't tell Miss Militia if you won't."

He smiled at me. It was a nice smile, and I could totally understand why mom had jumped his bones. _Bad thoughts. Taylor no, don't think about mom and Armsmaster getting it on you really don't need to see that._

"... If you let Dad know I'm up, he can get here in about 10 minutes? His boss will easily let him leave early. And... could we maybe keep my newfound status on the down-low for now? I don't want him to flip-out, as he knew a parahuman a couple of years ago and kinda knows about triggers and Second Gen's."

Armsmaster thought about it for a minute.

"Very well."

* * *

Dad was allowed to leave early, and I managed to stay awake without too much difficulty as watching Armsmaster work out equations on paper was fairly entertaining. He mumbled curses every time he had to go back and change something, and he once disintegrated an entire sheet of paper in frustration. He was much more relaxed by the time Dad came in though.

"Hey Dad."

He came over and hugged me in a carefully tight embrace, not knowing that I was completely healed and was just being kept for mental examination now. I hoped to be released tomorrow, maybe even tonight if I was lucky.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A bit, yeah. Father had Panacea heal me."

Armsmaster had set the pencil and notepad into one of his compartments and was coming over to stand by me when Dad turned to acknowledge him.

"As the hospital is insecure, would you and Taylor be willing to report to PRT Headquarters when Taylor is discharged? I am willing to escort you using nondescript means such as using an unmarked car with tinted windows, which is a common practice."

I rested a hand on Dad's arm, as he was bristling at how impersonal my father was being.

"That will be fine." I said, watching Dad carefully. Dad took a deep breath and released it in a sigh, giving a nod to show his agreement.

Armsmaster took it as the dismissal it was, and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

Dad threw his hands in the air.

"Arg! How can he be so, so... frigid!?"

I shrugged. "That's just who he is dad. He tends to avoid getting personal. We already had our heart-to-heart, but he's just not good at being anything other than professional except in front of a select few."

Dad considered this for a bit. "I suppose that's... understandable, considering his profession. Admirable, even."

I looked down, and noticed a bit of black on the inside of my wrist. Turning it over slightly, I caught sight of a phone number. A smile tugged at my lips as I looked back up at my dad. "I guess so." _I suppose this was the best way to make sure I had his number without leaving a nurse or a janitor to find it lying around_.

* * *

I was cleared later that day, much to my pleasure. I was getting bored in the hospital, and it wasn't like I needed to stay there for any physical reasons after Panacea healed me. Speaking of which, I hoped that Amy would stop by my place soon. I really, _really_ hope that she didn't think that I was another cape groupie or some asshole that just wanted Panacea as my personal healer.

I had only been home a couple of days, and I would be giving my statement later today. But for now, I was going to practice and figure out my powers, well, decipher and practice what I could infer from my dreams. I really want to try out that force field, as that seems to be an extremely practical power in this city.

I had just gotten the force field to flicker into existence when someone wearing a lot of metal knocked on my door.

"May I come in?" Ah. Armsmaster. The shit ton of metal made a bit more sense now.

I was wearing my usual, a hoodie, a tee-shirt, a pair of jeans and some lightly scuffed tennis shoes. "Yeah, I'm decent."

The force field was still holding, and I almost didn't feel any strain. The door opened, and Father looked around my room. It was fairly plain, a two white walls and a white ceiling, the wall with the window was tan and the one my bed was up against was a deep red. I had some pictures on my walls, mostly a couple of nature photos Mom took and the occasional book poster and some science posters. I had a small dresser next to my closet, as most of my clothes are on hangers, so it just had my underclothes in it. All in all, my room was fairly spartan, and that was just the way I liked it. Having too much stuff only cluttered space, after all.

I lightly tossed a tennis ball to him.

"Could you toss this at me? Lightly, please. I'm testing a force field to see how it works."

Armsmaster didn't say anything, just did what I asked. The ball bounced off without any issue.

"Awesome. I really haven't been doing much, as I don't want to damage anything inside the house, so I may see if I can get you to help me test my powers while I finish my costume. That is, if you're willing."

"I did give you half my genes and more than likely contributed to you having a Corona Pollentia. It would be remiss of me to not at least attempt to help you with your powers."

"Thanks, I suppose. I'm guessing it's time to go?"

"Yes."

"Can you see my force field?"

"Not with my bare eyes."

"Huh. Handy."

The ride to the PRT Headquarters was a quiet one. There was an obvious discord between my Dad and my Father, but at least neither of them were acting on it. Father probably didn't care about it and Dad was trying to ignore it, or at least be less obvious about it.

Father and I shared a look in the rear-view mirror, and I just gave him a shrug.

We pulled up to the check in at the underground parking lot of the PRT building, and were waved through after the agents scanned some of Armsmaster's things that he had handed over. It only took a few more check ins before we were led to an interrogation room. Dad wasn't in the room with me, but he was probably behind the one-way mirror. Miss Militia would be the one to interrogate me, rather, listen to what I had to say and ask questions, but same difference. She was more than likely a little befuddled why Armsmaster wasn't doing it himself but was still sticking around./p

I took a deep breath.

"I, Taylor Hebert of Winslow High School, state that one of the Wards have caused my trigger event."

Miss Militia went wide eyed, and turned around to look at Armsmaster. He tilted his head forwards. She snapped back to me and picked up her pencil.

"Miss Hebert, I am going to need you to be very clear and concise."

"My tormentors were Emma Barnes, Madison Clements and Sophia Hess. I tried to report this to the authorities and even transfer to Arcadia. They looked the other way and I even found the secretary shredding my transfer request once."

I handed her my journal. She flipped though a couple of pages before visible steeling herself and closing the cover.

"Are you willing to explain the events leading up to your trigger?"

"Yes. I was actually wary of going to school that day, as it was the first day of school after Winter Break, and they had time to plan. They didn't wait for me at the gates like usual. Everyone that saw me started giggling, and I was debating just turning around and going back home, but they would have made whatever they had done worse for not walking into their prank when they wanted me to. I entered the hallway with my locker in it, and all I could smell was this _stench._

I stopped, wiping at my eyes desperately as tears poured down my face. I started sobbing, and I clasped my hands over my mouth. Armsmaster hesitated in the corner, before slowly stepping towards me and pulling me into a hug.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop this Taylor, I should have seen this coming."

"It's okay, you were just respecting Mom's wishes."

Miss Militia was gaping at us, her eyes bouncing back and forth. The knife on her hip had turned into a katana with jagged edges and rust on it's blade.

I giggled a little at her expression, and the tears on my face slowed down as Miss Militia looked a little sheepish before going back to her professional stance.

"I'm okay, I can do this."

I finished cleaning my face off and Armsmaster went back to the corner by the door.

"I opened my locker, and... there was a bunch of _stuff_ on the walls and pooled on the bottom of my locker. Used tampons were taped to its walls, and a bunch of used pads were there too. Sophia was the one that pushed me into The Locker, she was the only one close enough to do it, and she's normally the muscle of the group anyway."

Miss Militia's pencil snapped, and Armsmaster handed her another one.

"I... I don't know how long I was in there. I just remember waking up in the hospital and having powers. Armsmaster was there, he probably has a recording if that's needed."

Miss Militia stood. "Miss Hebert, you will most likely be glad to know that you were found in front of Winslow High covered in the biohazard found in your locker. Your locker and multiple lockers next to it were found shredded and burst open, most likely contributing to your escape. We managed to contain the incident, and made it seem that you managed to bust your locker door open without any parahuman activity. No news of this has made it into the media."

"Thank you, Miss Militia."

"Honestly, Miss Hebert? It's the least I can do. Please excuse me, I need to speak to the director about detaining one of the Wards for a criminal charge."

* * *

Armsmaster walked us back through the check-points and we ended up leaving in a different car from the one we arrived in, although the only obvious difference was the licence plate. The drive home was much more relaxed, and I almost didn't notice when we pulled up to the curb in front of my house.

Dad went inside to get dinner started, and my father and I stood side by side just looking at the house for a bit.

"I will make sure that she faces charges. She should not have been able to get away with what she did."

"I know you will. It goes against your nature for one of the people under your charge to be going against the law, and for you to not to anything to fix it."

Armsmaster nodded. "I have just been updated on Shadow Stalker's status. She has been successfully detained."

"Good."

I turned to Armsmaster, and held out my hand. We shook, and went our separate ways.

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **OMAKE (of an OMAKE, lolz XD)**

"Thank you, Miss Militia."

"It was no problem. Now, if you don't mind, I have a Ward to detain."

Armsmaster raised his hand. "If you don't mind Miss Militia, I would like to be the one to carry this out."

He looked to me, and I shrugged.

"Taylor is my biological daughter after all, and I would like to personally make sure her tormentor cannot escape, as both her father and Commander of the East-North-East PRT branch."

Miss Militia gave a nasty grin, and it made her eyes gleam and her bandana shift. "By _all_ means."

Taylor unwillingly interrupted, "Don't you need to get someone's approval first?"

* * *

Director Piggot slowly leaned forward onto her desk, her head in her hands. "What a nightmare. I had hoped that she would reform; there are to many damn villains in this city."

"Director, given that she has rather thoroughly broken any vows and promises that she made, and has provided sufficient information that she will not stop but has an 80% chance of escalating her attacks should she find her way back to the streets, her label should be undated to villain. Considering that she doesn't know of her label change and is in the building, we should capture her and send her to the Birdcage." Stated Armsmaster.

Director Piggot set her clasped hands on her desk, and looked to Armsmaster. "Shadow Stalker is now considered a criminal, and upon her capture will be immediately sent to the Birdcage."

* * *

"All Wards to the Rec. Room." Miss Militia's voice called out over the comm's.

Shadow Stalker, Gallant, Clockblocker, Aegis, Vista, Browbeat and Kid Win made their way to the Rec. Room, and they were all a bit confused as to why the call to Assemble was for the Rec. Room and not the usual one. (Okay seriously I can't remember where they are originally supposed to gather.)

Chairs had been brought in and were arranged into a circle. Armsmaster was sitting in the one closest to the door, and Miss Militia was standing behind him.

"Sit." His no-nonsense voice had a growl to it, and not even Clockblocker tried to quip at him.

"It has come to my attention that one of you have gone outside off allowed parameters that a Ward is bound to."

He leaned forward.

"You see, one of you decided to become a bully, and focus on one girl in particular."

"The Wards glanced around at each other, only to notice the Shadow Stalker was sitting stock still.

"Normally, this Ward would only be sent to Juvie with restrains and never be allowed to leave until she was over 18. But you didn't take two things into your decision to bully this girl. One, your last act cause her to trigger and be confined to the hospital until Panacea could heal her. Two,"

He stood up and pulled out cuffs designed for Shadow Stalker.

"That girl you bullied? She's my daughter."

"Holy shit." Whispered Kid Win.

Shadow Stalker wasn't even able to attempt to escape or speak before Armsmaster slammed his Halberd into Shadow Stalker and tazed her until she was barely conscious.

"You will be sent to the Birdcage. There, you will not be able to bully anyone. Try it. _I dare you._ You are nothing but a wannabe piece of shit to those tried and tested criminals, and I wouldn't be too surprised to find you dead in days if you don't shape up." The cuffs clicked closed on her limp wrists and she fell unconscious.

Armsmaster stood and turned to the rest of the Wards. "Let this be a lesson to you all. _Never_ try to bully anyone. You don't know what connection they have. My daughter will more than likely not join the Wards, and I will not force her. I wouldn't be surprised if she takes the Rogue or Villain route. What I can do is tell you that once she can control her powers, not even I will be able beat her. We are lucky she has a better lid on her anger than I do, or Shadow Stalker would never be able to make it to the Birdcage alive."


	3. AN: I may not update for a while

I may not update for a while. My horse just had to be put down. I knew her since she was 1, and she was given to me when she was 2. I had her for two years. She was an Arabian/Thoroughbred/Quarter Horse mix and her favorite thing to do was race around the pasture. She was trapped in a stall and another horse presumably tried to chase her out. She reared and got her hoof stuck in the panels. Then her left front fetlock joint and the bones in her pastern broke. She had to be cut out of the panels and was completely unresponsive (in shock). She was put down not soon after, as no surgery could get her up again accept amputation, which she mostly likely wouldn't have lived through or would have a miserable life as a pasture pet since she loved being worked with, loved running (read: sprinting) and she loved to travel.

R.I.P.

Paechence (2012-2016)

"Just because I'm grounded doesn't mean I can't run free."


	4. Chapter 2

Look! Its not dead! This is more of a short draft than anything, but since it's basically been two years, its more of an apology for the wait? (Granted, the draft has been sitting around for a year...) If you have any ideas on what to fix and how to continue, I'd love to hear it!

ALSO: Its on AO3 under the same name, and I posted it there on 21 Oct - 2018... I'm honestly rarely on FF anymore unless its just to keep an eye on what I'm following (fics and writers both) and I legit forgot to post this chaplet here.

* * *

When I woke, I was in the hospital. It only had one bed, which I was presently occupying, and on my right there were a couple of chairs by the window. Somewhere, there was a radio playing soft classical music. I found a cup of water on the stand next to me, and I gladly sipped at it. _There's normally a button around here somewhere... I think?_ With a bit of fumbling around, I found the button, and a nurse came in looking harried. She looked relieved when she realized I was up and not dying on the floor or something.

"Hey Taylor, how are you feeling?"

"I don't know. Why am I in the hospital?" Now she looked hesitant.

"You were found at Winslow high school, multiple lacerations, blood poisoning, bruising and a mild concussion. The PRT was hoping that you could give a statement?"

The nurse bustled around, checking on bandages and around the room. "You were quite lucky that they were able to get you to the hospital when they did."

I blinked at her. "Oh... The last thing I remember is talking to Armsmaster when he was spraying foam on me for some reason."

"That was because Armsmaster used it as temporary bandages. Panacea had to be called in in order to be able to safely remove the foam, as when it comes off it can be dangerous, especially with how many wounds you had."

"Oh. Thanks for letting me know."

"It was no problem at all, dear. A doctor will be in shortly."

She left, and I looked down at my bandages.

 _If Panacea was called in... why wasn't I fully healed?_

* * *

 **Not writing a doctor scene, the nurse was plenty tortuous.**

* * *

As it turns out, Panacea was basically called in in order to seal my wounds the best she could, but I didn't have enough fat on my body for her to do much of anything. Panacea had just enough material to take me out of the critical zone by healing the blood poisoning and create scabs over the smaller lacerations and take some of the depth out of deeper wounds. Once I was out of critical condition, she was rushed away as the hospital had been busy that day with emergencies and couldn't afford to wait for supplies to keep healing me. The concussion was already starting to fade, but I was still on bed rest as they didn't want me to pop any stitches. I was informed that I would have multiple scars, some of them quite large.

I was angry that The Trio had done lasting physical damage. It was bad enough that they had locked my in my own locker and given my blood poisoning because of it, but now I had to carry a permanent reminder of it? Yeah, you could say I was pissed. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I glared at the door, and the handle started rattling. I blinked.

 _Was someone coming in?_

No one entered, but the door handle stopped rattling.

 _Another_ fucking _prank?!_

The door started rattling again, only this time it popped open. No one was there.

I was released from the hospital two days later, and I was required to come back in a week to make sure my stitches weren't infected and that I was healing properly. They also wanted to check on my concussion at the same time. I listened to what they said on how to care for my stitches and they even gave me a basic care guide that came with site references. They also told me that calling them wouldn't cost anything if I needed to ask what to do if the site and pamphlet didn't answer any of my questions.

I nodded along and took note in my head, but there was only one major question circulating my head at the moment.

 _Did_ I _open that door?_

It wasn't until I was home that I realized how quiet it was. I felt less connected, and I was almost uncomfortable. It wasn't until I eased my way downstairs that I realized that it wasn't my room that made me uncomfortable, it was what _wasn't_ in my room. The metal that I passed by called out to me, the fridge, stove and microwave practically beacons calling out to me. Curious, I opened the silverware drawer. It wasn't the electricity that called to me, it was the metal, but I could sense the electricity as a separate hum in the back of my mind.

I sat down at the table, some spoons and a couple forks placed in front of me. My hand hovered over them, and I hesitated.

 _How do I make them move?_

Going completely on instinct, I poked at a spoon mentally. It flew off the table.

"Oops."

* * *

I now have a Tumblr!

I made a thing/art/ish


End file.
